


Is it something we did?

by vivianblakesunrisebay



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s05e11 Meet the Parents, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 08:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21335470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianblakesunrisebay/pseuds/vivianblakesunrisebay
Summary: Marcy and Clint talk in their motel room after Johnny accidentally reveals Patrick and David are romantically involved.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 46
Kudos: 355





	Is it something we did?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princesstigerlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesstigerlily/gifts).

The words kept repeating themselves in Marcy’s head: _mixing a business relationship and a romantic relationship. A romantic relationship._ She was grateful for Clint’s hand, strong on her back.

“Clint—” she began. 

“Let’s get into the room. Plenty of time to talk about it there,” Clint said.

At the door, she fumbled with the key, trying to fit it into the lock. The key was upside down; she righted it, tried again. She finally got the door open and she stumbled in, Clint right behind her. Her thoughts were whirling, trying to take in the implications of what she had just heard; and on top of everything else she felt an absurd worry that they had just been very rude to her son’s boyfriend’s father.

_Her son’s boyfriend._

“Oh, why wouldn’t he tell us?” she burst out, as soon as the door closed behind them.

Clint also looked shaken, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “We shouldn’t make assumptions, Marcy. We really don’t know anything.”

Marcy relaxed a little. Clint was always so steady. She nodded. “You’re right. Making assumptions is what got us into this mess.”

“Marcy, this isn’t a mess. You don’t think it’s … a mess, do you?”

Marcy looked at her husband. He was looking at her uncertainly. She said, “Clint, are you really asking me if I’m upset Patrick might be gay? The answer is no.” She paused. She didn’t feel that was strong enough. “A thousand times no,” she said emphatically.

Clint relaxed. “Of course. Sorry, just asking,” he said.

“I’m upset Patrick felt like he had to hide it from us. From me. I’m his mother, and—” She paused. Tears were rising up in her eyes. “And I love him so much,” she said, forcing the words out past her tears. She felt it was important to say the words out loud. “I love him so much. Doesn’t he know that?”

Clint came over and put his arms around her. “He knows we love him,” he said. “I’m sure he does.”

“Then why would he—“

Clint interrupted. “Can we just wait until we talk to Patrick? We really don’t know anything.”

But Marcy’s thoughts were starting to come together. Things were starting to click into place. She pulled back from Clint’s embrace.

“It explains so much,” she said. “It explains why he didn’t want to come home for Christmas. Why he hasn’t wanted to see us at all. Remember when we asked if we could come here, and he said it wasn’t a good time? And I asked him to tell us when was a good time, and he never did?”

“Yes, I remember.” Clint looked sad. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

Marcy clasped her hands. She looked down at them, twisting together.

“And,” she said. “It explains Rachel.”

Clint just nodded. 

Marcy and Clint had both liked Rachel, but Marcy had become real friends with her. Their families had known each other forever, and Marcy had always been close friends with Linda, Rachel’s mother. After Rachel and Patrick became a couple, it was natural to include Rachel sometimes when Marcy and Linda did things together. Even as a teenager Rachel had been happy to come along, to get to know Marcy, to do things with her.

Over the years, after Patrick and Rachel had broken up and gotten back together so many times, Linda had cooled a little bit towards Marcy. That had hurt, a little, though Marcy understood. But Rachel never had. She was always so sweet, so eager to please. It used to break Marcy’s heart a little, how eager Rachel was to remain on good terms with Marcy.

“I—I did want him to marry Rachel,” Marcy said numbly.

“You didn’t want him to marry her if he wasn’t going to be happy,” Clint said. “I know you told him that, when he ended the engagement.”

“I did,” Marcy said. “But … I didn’t understand why they couldn’t work it out. I didn’t say that to Patrick, but he—he probably knew.”

She suddenly felt overwhelmed with the thought that she, his mother, who was supposed to love him more than anyone—and she did, she did—might have made it harder for Patrick to come to terms with who he was. Had she had driven her son away, driven him away with the weight of her expectations, even if they were unspoken?

Clint was looking at her with compassion, guessing where her thoughts were going.

“Marcy, remember this isn’t about us.”

She nodded, trying to pull herself together.

Clint was obviously searching for ways to comfort her. “And him not telling us isn’t necessarily about us, not completely. You know how Patrick keeps things inside sometimes.”

Marcy felt tears threatening again. “Maybe this is _why_ he keeps things inside.”

Clint had no answer for that. He looked stricken.

There was a knock at the door. Marcy had a wild hope that maybe it was Patrick. But no—it wouldn’t be. He didn’t even know they were here.

She opened the door. She saw a tall, handsome young man holding a big basket.

“Hi, Mrs. Brewer. Mr. Brewer,” he said. “I’m David Rose.”

*

After David and his father left, Marcy closed the door behind them. She and Clint looked at each other. Her heart felt lighter, and she could see Clint felt the same.

“Well, you know I hate to say it,” Marcy said. “But you were right.”

“Oh, I love being right. What was I right about?” Clint said, teasing.

“This isn’t about us.”

Marcy was having one of those moments of clarity, that came so seldom as a parent. There was something she knew, a bone-deep truth: _my job as a mother is love my son fiercely and unconditionally, and to make sure he knows that._

Even if she had screwed up in the past—if she hadn’t understood, if she had made assumptions, if she had done something to make Patrick feel he couldn’t talk to them—the best way to make it up to him was to be happy he was telling them now, not dwell on why he didn’t tell them before. And, to make sure, when he did tell them, that he knew they loved him and accepted him—but no, _accepted _wasn’t the right word.

Marcy said to Clint, “I know one more thing.” 

“What’s that?” Clint came over and put his arm around her.

She pointed to the door David had just gone out of. “That boy loves our son very, very much.”

She thought about how David’s love for Patrick had come through in everything he had just done and said, how clear it was that he didn’t just love him, he wanted the best for him; that he was ready to face Patrick’s parents and fight for him, even without knowing how they felt about their relationship; that he understood Patrick enough to know he was the kind of person who would want to tell them himself, and how determined he was to make that happen for him.

Everything a mother could wish for, she thought. So no, _accept_ wasn’t the right word. _Celebrate,_ that was more like it. 

They would celebrate tonight, Marcy thought. They would celebrate Patrick’s birthday ... and so much more.


End file.
